


Subtlety, (not) thy middle name

by mnemosius



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff and silliness, M/M, The Barns, and a little bit of suggestiveness, farmer puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosius/pseuds/mnemosius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found a bunch of interesting dishtowels at the farmstand today, and my immediate reaction to one of them was "Ronan would absolutely have this on a shirt." This fic was the result. </p>
<p>Alternatively, Adam has learned that playing along with Ronan's "interesting" methods of communication is often worth it.</p>
<p>Here's the picture I took of the farming puns, if you're interested: http://mnemosius.tumblr.com/post/149141537856/i-just-found-these-at-my-farms-csa-stand-and-my</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtlety, (not) thy middle name

This was the thing about dating Ronan Lynch: he was not very good with his words. 

Adam had discovered that this sort of person generally fell into one of two categories. The first he privately referred to as the “Tad Carruthers” sort, where the person, perhaps oblivious of their inability to communicate themselves effectively, simply speaks as much as possible about absolutely nothing in an attempt to make themselves clear. It was always an effort doomed to failure, and people like that had never endeared themselves to him.

Ronan was the second sort of person. Aware of his inability to communicate effectively, he saved his words for when they could have the most effect, and otherwise used swears and posturing liberally to pick up the slack. It was not a language Adam had been born a speaker of, and that was largely the reason why he had gone so long thinking Ronan didn’t like him. He would never lose the awkward understanding that came from speaking Ronan’s language as a learned thing, but now he had a better handle on it. Their relationship worked because Ronan had learned to show his love in so many other ways than his words, and Adam had learned to notice them. 

Still, there were times when Ronan found ways to surprise Adam all the same. 

Adam’s first sign that this was going to be an interesting day was when he was greeted by Blue upon returning to the Barns after a shift at Boyd’s for some extra term abroad money. He had been looking forward to a borderline-painful hot shower and then maybe collapsing onto Ronan’s lap, but Blue had a way of demanding the room’s attention that remained in full effect now. 

“Hi, welcome back,” Blue said, smiling from where she finished off her yogurt on the counter. “Gansey and I were wondering if you and Ronan were down for some adventure later this week.” There was a pause, and then - “Also, please tell your boyfriend he has terrible taste.”

“Gansey wears boat shoes and you’re still dating him,” Adam pointed out by way of reply, slinging his bag onto the peg by the door and kicking off his shoes. “Are you sure you have the moral high ground in this argument?” He glanced at the dream calendar hanging on the wall, the dates carefully marked out over glossy, artistic stills of Chainsaw preening. “I’ve got work through Friday, but Saturday should be good.”

“Saturday works,” Blue said cheerfully, hopping off the counter. Her shirt might at one point have made a bold statement about saving the trees, but now seemed more an exercise in not-quite-artful shredding. “And trust me, this is worse than the boat shoes.” 

She seemed more amused than offended, so Adam figured whatever Ronan had done wasn’t too bad. Adam followed her into the living room, where Ronan sat in his favorite armchair with Opal in his lap. His tank was uncharacteristically light, and Opal’s head obscured the writing on it. Ronan was laughing at whatever Gansey had just finished saying, and Adam took a moment to appreciate the easy lines on his boyfriend’s face. Ronan noticed him coming in a second later, and his smile softened just a little, an expression he was starting to show more and more often to the rest of the world. 

“Parrish,” Ronan said, grinning up at him. Opal opened one eye blearily to look at him, then fell asleep again. “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Adam said tiredly, ducking down quickly to press a quick kiss onto Ronan’s waiting lips before collapsing into his own chair. “Boyd had me finished up an oil change for a desperate friend of his.”

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” Gansey said, turning his head toward Adam as well. “Adam, please tell Ronan he can’t wear that shirt outside. It’s, well…” Gansey trailed off. “Well, I suppose it’s indecent,” he said finally, “but somehow the word doesn’t quite do it justice.”

“It’s _terrible_ ,” Blue said from where she’d sat down next to Gansey, snuggling right into him. Adam could hear the laughter in her voice.

Ronan flipped her off, grinning even wider. “I’m unappreciated in my own time.” He turned his head to Adam lazily. “I got a new shirt, and these prudes can’t appreciate it.”

Adam raised one dust-colored eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips as well. “Let’s see it, then.”

Ronan maneuvered Opal gently until she was horizontal in his lap, and the writing was revealed. It featured a charming little sketch of a tractor tilling a field, and the carefully stenciled words _“I insist on getting ploughed before dinner.”_

Adam blinked, rendered momentarily speechless. Ronan looked almost unbearably proud.

“See?” Blue said with satisfaction, tone undermined slightly by the fact that her head was lying in Gansey’s lap. Gansey was visibly delighted by this.

“It would be very hard not to,” Adam said slowly, lips twitching. “Did you actually take the time to dream that up?” he asked.

“Found it online,” Ronan said dismissively. “This is a fucking work of art, Parrish; I can’t claim credit for the genius behind it.”

“It’s certainly something,” Gansey said distractedly.

Adam paused. Looked at the writing some more. Looked at Ronan, watching him expectantly. “Well,” he said finally. “How much time does that give us?”

The blank look Ronan gave him was worth it. “What?”

“Until dinner,” Adam said, giving in to his smile. “I mean, if you insist.”

Ronan froze, cheeks flushing. Adam felt distinctly smug. “About an hour,” he said, voice coming out a little rough. “We can make it work.”

Gansey didn’t seem able to decide who to choose, so he was busy giving horrified looks to both of them, looking back at forth. “Was that - was that really necessary?”

Blue looked torn between laughter and being slightly scandalized. “Oh, my god.”

“Yes,” Adam said simply. He stood up, and Ronan did as well, carefully depositing Opal in the armchair as he did so. “Great seeing y’all, but I’m afraid Ronan insists.”

“Damn right I do,” Ronan said, grinning sharply. He reached out a hand, and Adam took it as easy as breathing. “Out, Sargent. Take your man with you.”

Blue stood abruptly, and Gansey trailed away with her after tossing one last betrayed look over his shoulder. “Saturday, then?” she called back from the front door.

“Sure, whatever,” Ronan shouted, and surged forward for a kiss. Adam let himself be pinned against the wall, spread his legs to allow Ronan’s thigh better access. 

“So you like the shirt?” Ronan said, grin wicked, then stuttering as Adam leaned forward and nipped at the underside of his jaw. 

“Honestly, I’m just grateful it wasn’t a worse pun,” Adam said, sliding one hand down to rest comfortably on Ronan’s ass. 

“I have a ‘sowing your seed’ one as well,” Ronan informed him, hands under Adam’s shirt and in his hair. 

“Later,” Adam said firmly, tugging them in the direction of the stairs. He smiled again, warm and full of laughter. “I can’t believe you got a farmer pun shirt. That might be the most unsubtle thing I’ve ever seen you do, and that includes the hand lotion.”

“I can’t believe you like it,” Ronan admitted, pulling them onto the bed, landing on his back.

Adam slid on top of him, straddling Ronan’s hips. “Sometimes subtlety is overrated,” he said, enjoying the way Ronan exposed his neck, the flush he could see creeping down Ronan’s chest.

“Shut up and get ploughing already.”

“Well, since you insist.”


End file.
